The Two Shall Become One
by kyalpn
Summary: AU Fic - Derek's and Analiese Graven's life together wasn't perfect, but they were working on it. When it all comes crashing down, they find lessons-and answers-in the marriage of strangers. Married for nearly thrity years, Sami & EJ DiMera have it all, but tragedy is about to strike . Will they survive it?
1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue ~**_

_Memorial Day ~_

"Mommy? Why do we have to come here? I don't like this place. It's scary." Six year old Timmy held tightly to his mother's hand as they walked quietly between the headstones to his grandfather's grave. His father trailed slightly behind. He didn't say it, but Timmy was pretty sure he was still mad about being here.

He thought that coming here was why his mommy and daddy were yelling at each other this morning. His daddy was complaining that he had too much work to do around the house, and he could remember her father just as easily at home, and his mommy had cried and said all he cared about was work; he didn't care about anyone else. Then Daddy had yelled how could she say that? The reason he was so far behind was because he worked so hard all the time trying to make ends meet, and all she did was spend money, and Mommy had cried more and said that was a horrible thing to say to her.

The yelling lasted a long time and got really loud. He had hidden by the kitchen door so they couldn't see him. But then, Daddy kicked a hole in the wall and started screaming into Mommy's face, really mean things that made Mommy look afraid, and Timmy had gotten really scared and ran away. He ran to the space under the stairs that only he knew about. Well, he and Mister Bear. But he didn't have Mister Bear right then. He thought he forgot him upstairs on his bed when he woke up. He'd pulled his legs up to his chin, wrapping his arms around them, and hid is face in his knees. _Please stop, please stop, please stop... _

Timmy didn't know how long he stayed hidden, but it was a long time. Long enough that Mommy and Daddy stopped fighting, but he still didn't move. He didn't move until Daddy had yelled at him to stop playing and come out from wherever he was or he would be sorry.

When he walked into the kitchen, Mommy smiled and hugged him and tried to act like nothing was wrong, but he could tell Daddy was still mad. All he said was, "Get in the car. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we get back." Mommy had tried to pretend that she wasn't crying, but Timmy still saw.

Now they were here, and Mommy and Daddy still weren't talking to each other. It made Timmy feel sick in his tummy. He hoped they wouldn't fight anymore today. "Why are we here?" he asked again.

"Because today is a holiday," his mother answered. "It is a holiday where we remember people that we have loved that died."

"Like Grandpa?"

"Yes, sweetie. Like Grandpa. He isn't with us anymore, so this is one way we can still show that we love him."

"Oh. I love Grandpa. I wanna show him." Timmy looked around at the other headstones. "Will other people come too? To show that they love their grandpas?" Now that Mommy had explained, this place didn't seem so scary.

"Yes, baby. Probably so," Mommy answered.

They had stopped walking now, and Timmy saw his Mommy bend down. She put her hand on the stone, and a tear ran out of her eye. There were words on the stone that Timmy wished he could read, but he hadn't learned that in school yet.

"Hi, Daddy," she whispered. "We came." She didn't say anything else. She just sat there crying and holding the flowers she had brought. Timmy wasn't sure what she was going to do with those. He wished he could make her feel better.

Daddy didn't say anything either. He just kept looking mad.

Suddenly, Timmy remembered that Mommy said that they were supposed to show love when they were here. He didn't want anyone to think he didn't love his grandpa, especially his mommy. He should probably do something. Thinking of the only thing he remembered about his grandpa, Timmy knelt down and hugged the stone. His grandpa had given the best hugs, and hugging the stone wasn't exactly the same, but maybe it would be OK. "I love you, Grandpa. I wanted everyone to know," Timmy said quietly.

Mommy smiled really big even though tears still came out of her eyes, but Daddy was getting impatient. "Ok. Let's get going. I've got a lot to do."

Mommy didn't argue this time, and neither did Timmy. He immediately did what he was told because he didn't want Mommy and Daddy to fight in a place where you were supposed to show love.

As they stood up, Timmy saw a family on the very far other side of the field. They were here to show love to their grandpa too, but they didn't have a stone. It looked like they were standing next to a big hole in the ground. "Mommy, look," he pointed. "Their grandpa doesn't have a stone like mine does. How come?"

Analeise Graven looked in the direction her son was pointing, and her heart broke at the scene. _I forgot that her service was today_, she thought, remembering the obituary in the paper. "They don't have a stone, honey, because that person just died. They haven't had a chance to get one yet. Probably the next time we come to see Grandpa, they will have one."

Timmy seemed to take her words as explanation enough, and he hurried to catch up with Derek, who was several steps ahead, but she couldn't stop watching the grieving family. Or more specifically, the grieving husband.

He knelt at the very edge of the open grave, reaching in as if he could pull his wife from it or perhaps simply fall into it with her. Sobs literally shook his body, and his grown sons stood close as if they were prepared to catch him if he should fall. Behind them was a waiting limo in which the last of several small children was being settled, and women who Analeise assumed were the daughters stood watch as well, obviously concerned about their father.

How would it be to know such a love? A love so deep that your spouse's death felt like your own? She and Derek didn't love each other like that. Not anymore. Maybe they never had.

But looking at this man so openly broken, so broken that it seemed as if you could see the hole in his chest that was gaping wide—streaming with blood—as clearly as if he were literally ripped open, Analiese knew she was seeing the definition of an oft quoted verse by her own mother. One she usually quoted at weddings with tears in her eyes:

_**"And the two shall become one..."**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1 ~**

_**Twelve Months Earlier ~~**_

Sami DiMera stepped out of the shower quietly and reached for her towel where it hung on the back of the bathroom door. She slowly wrapped it around herself and then sat on the top of the closed toilet seat, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the sudden chill that was working its way to her very core.

She didn't know how long she sat there unmoving. She could vaguely hear EJ in their bedroom through the door, finishing up a business call most likely, and she knew that he would call for her or come in to check on her any minute. But, still she did not move, and indeed, his voice was heard in very short order.

"Samantha, darling? Are you alright?" He rapped twice at the door before poking his head inside, and his face split into the smile that she had grown to love so dearly over the years. "Ah. There you are." He crossed the room in just a few long strides and scooped her up in his arms (he could still do that almost as easily today as he could when they first got married), took her place on the toilet seat and settled her comfortably in his lap. He continued to chatter away, Samantha's mood going unnoticed.

"How is it that I still miss you even if you are only gone for a few minutes?" he marveled, hugging her close. "Even after all these years?"

Sami felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly, but only just. Certainly, it was some automatic response that only EJ would be able to elicit in this situation, because she didn't feel like smiling. Not at all.

"And I love it when the children come for dinner, don't you?" EJ laughed at himself. "What am I saying? There is nothing you love better than the children and grandchildren around you for the evening.

"And what about Sydney's news, huh? Our baby girl, having a baby of her own?" He sighed, the special love of a father for his daughter shining brightly through his eyes as he remembered Sydney and Jeremy at the dinner table making their announcement. "Every time one of them gives us that news, it is just as incredible as the last, isn't it?"

He kissed her tenderly on the lips at that and then pulled back slowly. Realizing that Sami hadn't actually kissed him back and that she wasn't overflowing with excitement, a slight frown darkened his brow. "Darling? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I found a lump," Sami whispered as much to herself as to answer her husband's question. Actually, it didn't appear that she had heard her husband at all. It was as if she needed to say it out loud to make it real. To convince herself that she wasn't having an awful nightmare and would be waking up...right now.

EJ's arms tightened in a death grip around her waist, effectively bringing Sami back to the present. She watched the blood drain from his face and instant fear fill his eyes. He searched her face to see if there was any way that he might have misunderstood, and not finding anything to suggest otherwise, Sami felt the panic wash over him even though he fought to stay calm.

"I'll call the doctor," he said softly.

* * *

EJ held Samantha's hand tightly and hoped she didn't notice how tense he felt, how scared he was. She needed all of his support today. He shifted his weight, trying to find a comfortable position for his 6'5" frame in the hard, plastic exam room chair. Finding none, he gave up and stifled a sigh.

His only concern was not making this worse for his wife. As scared as he was, it was nothing compared to what she must be feeling. What she would be feeling if the news wasn't what they were praying for.

Three weeks before, Samantha had undergone surgery to remove the lump from her breast two days after she found it. Knowing her history, her surgeon had gotten a new colleague to get her in as soon as possible since he was out of the country, and now they were waiting for the biopsy results.

How could this happen? It had been six years. The doctors had assured them that if she made it five years without the cancer coming back, the chance of it recurring went down drastically, that it was likely that she would remain cancer-free. In all this time, she had continued to get a perfect reports, never finding anything physically or on lab work that would suggest a problem. For once in her life, Samantha had done exactly what she was told to do and continued to work hard to be healthy, and now this?

_It's not cancer. It's not. It's benign. That surgeon is going to come in here and tell us that we don't have a thing to worry about. That is simply all there is to it._

In spite of his stern pep-talk, images of Samantha's first battle flooded his mind. They appeared rapidly one after the other with startling clarity, untouched by the passage of time. He remembered the experience—felt its agony—as acutely as he felt it at the time.

If nothing else, his wife was brave, everyone had said. She had fought with dogged determination, refusing to let the side-effects of chemo and radiation sideline her. When her hair fell out, she didn't cry; she simply found all sorts of beautiful and creative ways to cover her head. And when she was ravaged with pain, her eyes sunken and circled with deep rings of black from fatigue, she bore it as patiently as possible, never once letting on how big of a toll it was taking.

They all marveled. This wasn't the Samantha Gene they knew, this woman bearing her trouble so quietly. They watched her smile sweetly at her children and hold and play with their children and wondered: from whence came her strength?

Only he had known the truth. Only he had held hair hair back when she was sick in the days immediately after her treatments, carried her when she was too weak to walk and coaxed and encouraged her to eat—never enough—when she felt too spent to even lift a fork to her mouth. He helped her bathe when she longed to wash the "smell of poison"-as she called it—off of her body, lain awake with her when sleep refused to come and rocked her in his arms as her tears fell when fear reared its ugly head.

He could still feel those tears. He knew it sounded absurd, but EJ could swear that they had burned permanent tracks into his skin. He never could stand to see Samantha cry, and those times had been especially bitter since there was nothing he could do to make the situation alright for her. He couldn't take away the pain or bring the sweet relief of rest. He couldn't calm her fears because his own were choking him to death. He thought he had hidden his own torment well, but he should have known better; Samantha always had known him better than he knew himself.

One night, thinking that she was finally asleep, he had stepped out onto the balcony off of their bedroom. There, in the night air, everything had crashed in on him, and he had fallen to his knees, sobbing. How would he go on if she didn't make it? Yes, he had his children whom he loved more than anything in the world, but Samantha was his life's blood. Without her...

Pain worse than anything he had ever felt had ripped through him at the thought. Without Samantha, he would die. That was all there was to it.

He didn't know how long he had stayed out there, but suddenly she had been beside him, wrapping herself around him and kissing away his tears as they fell. He held onto her for dear life, sure that she would be taken from him at any moment.

When the worst was over, she'd looked him straight in the eye and was very direct. "I'm still here. Don't ever hide from me..."

With great effort, EJ pushed those memories away. They were too painful and would do nothing to keep him positive for today. She had told him then to never hide from her, but today she wouldn't know the fear that was fighting to run rampant in his heart. He turned to see how she was holding up, their eyes met, and a tight smile of irony tilted the corners of his mouth.

So much for his plan to hide from her; she already knew.

She reached up to kiss his jaw and rested her chin lightly on his shoulder before a quick, polite knock was heard at the door. They broke apart expectantly as the surgeon, Dr. Graven, walked in.

"Mr. and Mrs. DiMera. Sorry I'm late." The doctor did not smile or acknowledge them in any way except for a cursory glance in their direction as he took a seat on the rolling stool. "I'm sure you are anxious for your results, and I have them here."

"What...What do they say?" Sami's mouth was suddenly dry, her heart rate doubling, and she felt EJ's arm tighten around her shoulders. They knew from experience—and the extensive research EJ had done—that Dr. Graven's approach meant little in terms of whether the news was good or bad. He was efficient and the best at his job, nothing more. But this was the moment of truth. Her life depended on how he answered that question.

With a tired sigh, Dr. Graven looked at them blandly. "The cancer has returned, and it's more extensive this time. I'm sorry." Derek recited the script appropriate for theses situations, but didn't waste much time in trying to put actions with the words. He didn't _have_ the time, and in his experience, the patient's and their families weren't really listening at this point, anyway. They heard the word "cancer", and everything else ceased to exist. In the end, he would be a very small part of this woman's recovery—if recovery was possible, and he wasn't sure that it was. She would bond with her oncologist; he would give her the emotional support she needed.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

Derek was startled at his patient's response, startled enough that he actually looked at her for the first time. Her chart noted an age in the fifties, but she didn't look a day over forty. Indeed, if he hadn't had access to her medical records, he never would've guessed that she was a cancer survivor. She didn't have a strand of gray in her hair, though it was so blonde it would probably be nearly impossible to tell, and she had no wrinkles in her skin except for very soft laugh lines around her eyes, which had darkened to an impressive shade of navy blue as they glared at him right now.

"I...I beg your pardon?" Derek stammered.

"_I said_, don't say things you don't mean," she repeated through clenched teeth. "You _aren't_ sorry that I have cancer, so don't patronize me and act like you are."

Speechless for once in his life, Derek said the first thing that came to his mind and immediately wanted to pull his tongue out. "I'm sorry." He waited for the scolding he was sure was coming, but was surprised when Mr. DiMera interrupted quietly.

"You...you said it was aggressive?"

For a second time in less than two minutes, Derek found himself being caught off guard and actually looking at the individual to whom he was speaking. It was true that he gave this kind of news fairly regularly, it was always an unpleasant visit for the patient and their family, and he was sure that they all must've looked something like this man did right now. So why was the utter devastation staring back at him such a shock?

Mr. DiMera looked as if the news was actually crushing him, as if his wife's diagnosis was his own death sentence. If eyes were the window to one's soul, looking into this man's took Derek to a frighteningly dark place—a place he didn't recognize, couldn't comprehend and definitely didn't like. Barely able to suppress a shudder, he brought all his medical training to fore and commanded the professional in himself to retake center stage.

"Yes. I'm sorry. The biopsy shows that it is at least Stage Two, meaning-"

"I know what that means," Mrs. DiMera interrupted. "How is that possible? I just found the lump; it's not like I ignored it for months! In fact, we called that very night!"

Derek nodded and tried to keep the situation firmly in hand. It was unnerving not being in control and maddening that he was having to work at it. He was known for his unflappable personality, his calm in the face of any situation. He had spent a lifetime cultivating the firm command of his emotions, and while he sometimes allowed his temper to get the best of him, it happened rarely and only when he was provoked beyond what he could bear. It certainly was never in public where he would lose face, and he prided himself on that fact. What was it about this woman that stripped him down so easily?

"Yes, Mrs. Dimera; I understand that, which is one of the reasons I say it's aggressive. Considering the fact that we removed the lump almost immediately after you found it, it is not a good thing that we found it to be farily large in size: more than two centimeters. We also did not get clear margins-"

"So, it's already spreading." Mr. DiMera's voice was little more than a tortured whisper, his eyes downcast. His wife was silent, but she glared at Derek accusatorily as if the diagnosis was his fault.

What did she want him to say? It wasn't like he had caused this, and he wasn't sitting here giving her bad news because he hadn't yanked enough chains today, so why not yank hers? Maybe if he gave her the relatively good news, he could get the appointment—and himself—back on solid footing.

"Of course, it's very possible that even though it is spreading through the breast tissue that it hasn't spread any further than that, and we can still stop it from doing so. I would recommend doing a mastectomy as soon as possible. During that procedure we will take some lymph nodes from under your arm for biopsy to see if the cancer has spread there. I also would recommend-"

"What happens if it has spread there?" Mrs. DiMera interrupted again, though her voice held less anger this time and more fear.

It gave Derek an unfamiliar pang in his chest to hear it. He wasn't used to actually noticing things like that about his patients, and he wasn't sure he liked it; it made the messy parts of his job too uncomfortable. He again pushed those feelings away and tried to get back to the cool, detached place from which he normally worked. "Then appointments with your oncologist will be paramount, as you know. He will be able to better discuss your options of treatment if you decide to go with any-"

Again, the minute the words were out of his mouth, Derek wanted to snatch them out of the air and stuff them back into his mouth. Any progress he might have made with this patient evaporated into thin air as a mixture of shock and disbelief passed over her face just before fury marked her entire being, and she cut him off with a downward slash of her hand.

"What do you mean _if_ I decide to seek treatment? Why wouldn't I?" she demanded. Her countenance was one of someone looking for a fight, one of challenge, and without thinking about whether it was wise or not, Derek rose to it. It simply wasn't in his nature not to.

"Mrs. DiMera. You realize that a recurrence of this disease is not a good thing, don't you? You understand that if it has spread to your lymph system— or anywhere else for that matter—we are not going to be able to cure it, right? The odds of getting it into remission would be remote or—depending on where the metastasis was—impossible. You've been through this before; you know what treatment is like. Is that how you want to spend the rest of your days?"

The air in the room after he asked his question crackled with electricity. If looks could kill, Derek knew he would be mortally wounded right now, but he wasn't the bad guy here, and he wasn't going to act like it. He wouldn't back down or apologize for being blunt. Even being through this once before, this woman obviously didn't realize what was at stake, the seriousness of the situation.

Along with being known for unflappable self-control, he was also known for having a well honed "gut feeling", and his gut feeling was telling him that they didn't have all the information; this case was worse than they knew. He needed to make her understand that up front. Ready to keep up the fight if necessary, Derek was surprised for a third time to witness a change in his patient's emotions. She was no less furious with him, but that emotion took a back seat to disgust.

"How I want to spend my...last days...is up to me; don't you think?" She shook her head in disbelief, and continued, addressing him with pity. "You really don't get that some people might think that there are some things worth fighting for no matter how sick they may be, do you?" She paused, and a moment of untold grief filled her eyes. "Do you have children, Dr. Graven?"

Where was she going with this? What did his life have to do with her? "Yes," Derek answered slowly. "My son, Timothy. He's five."

"Ah." Mrs. DiMera's eyes lit with understanding. Derek wasn't sure what she understood, but didn't have to wait long to find out. "Such a fun age. I bet as a doctor, it's hard to do everything you want to with him, huh? You probably miss a lot of soccer games and school programs and stuff...it's hard."

Derek wracked his brain trying to think of the last time he and Timothy had done anything together or the last function he had willingly gone to and flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

OK; so he wasn't as available as his wife, Analiese, thought he should be. He worked hard and he gave both her and their son a life they never would've had if he didn't. He could afford to give Timothy things he never had as a child, and that made him a good father. He didn't think she would be impressed if he said so, though, and he still didn't understand what any of this had to do with anything.

"I know that because I have a family, too," she said. "See, when people hit middle age and beyond, others start to forget about the life that person lead up to that point; strangers don't even think of it. So what if my children are grown and self-sufficient and are raising children of their own? So what if my husband and I have already been married for nearly thirty years? I still want to be here to experience as much of their lives—as much of their love—as I possibly can."

This conversation was definitely taking an uncomfortable turn, and Derek had the distinct feeling that he was being scolded like a naughty child. "But, you have to understand-"

Mrs. DiMera kept talking as if she hadn't heard him."Do you know what happened the night I found this lump? My youngest daughter told me that she is having a baby. My baby is going to have a baby, and you want me to think about giving up? Are you crazy? I have so much to live for. I don't care how sick I will be; for that reason alone I would fight."

"So I don't care what you say. I am going to do everything I can to beat this. I will fight until my _oncologist_—not my _surgeon_—tells me there isn't a reason to fight anymore, do you hear me? I...will...fight this!"

Before Derek could form a reply, Mrs. DiMera swept out of the exam room, leaving him alone with her husband. Their eyes locked, and he wasn't sure if he should apologize or appeal to the man to reason with his wife. If this went as badly as he thought it would, this man and his children would have to watch his wife suffer unspeakably. Surely he wouldn't want to do that.

The decision was taken out of his hands as the other man spoke first. "Your bedside manner needs work," he remarked arrogantly. "You won't build a practice here in Castle Rock with that kind of attitude, no matter how good your credentials are." Mr. DiMera rose from the chair and moved to follow his wife with the air of a king leaving a lowly subject, but before he walked away, he looked at Derek piercingly.

He fixed him again with the gaze of a dying man, and Derek knew that if he never remembered another patient or their spouse again, he would remember this moment as long as he lived, and the next words out of Mr. Dimera's mouth before he left would haunt him just as much.

"But I have to thank you, Dr. Graven, for making her so angry. My wife will fight harder than she ever has in her life just because you implied that she shouldn't. That's how she won before, and that's how she'll win again. I refuse to believe anything else because I can not lose my wife; you understand that? I simply..._can not_...lose Samantha."

So that was her name: Samantha. Derek realized he hadn't known.

For the rest of the day, the appointment with Samantha DiMera stayed with him, and not only because various colleagues, hearing about the verbal scuffle through the office grapevine, stopped him in the halls to warn him about the dangers of ticking off the biggest hospital contributors in the town of Castle Rock.

It stuck with him because it was obvious that she and her husband had something special together. Something Derek didn't have and never had seen before. They had something that made being at death's door because of chemotherapy just to continuing experiencing it worth it. They had something that it would kill them to lose.

For the first time in a long time, Derek felt something stir inside him, and for the first time in his life, he tried praying to that God Analiese was always harping about. He couldn't tell her, because of the strict privacy laws, but if she knew he had done it, he knew she would be happy. And if Analiese was happy, maybe her God would be too, and he would give these people a miracle.

Because Derek was pretty sure a miracle was what they would need if this wife and mother—so obviously loved—was going to have a chance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 ~**

Sami stared silently through her window at the scenery passing on the outside of the car. It was a perfect spring day. The sky was blue without a cloud in site; a balmy breeze circulated through the car, bringing with it the intoxicating fragrance of the season in full bloom. The sun shone brightly through the windshield, touching her face with just the right amount of warmth, and she closed her eyes, letting her head tilt back to feel it more fully.

It was the sort of day she and EJ loved. The kind in which they usually looked at each other and simultaneously decided to play hooky from their everyday cares and responsibilities by spending it outside together laughing, playing and loving as had become their way. Once she had come to her senses and started running _toward_ instead of _away_ from him

That was probably why EJ had insisted on bringing out the Maserati today and taking the out-of-the-way route through their favorite canyon on the way home. This old car held so many memories: the time she almost dropped the transmission driving out to the nature preserve the night EJ showed up drunk to one of their dates, picnicking under the stars at the same preserve just before she proposed to him under the light of the full moon. Sami remembered many times-so many times-screaming with laughter and exhilaration when EJ would find an open stretch of road, let the top down and put his old race car driving skills to the test. In fact, they'd gone for a drive not that long ago, and it had been as breathtaking as the first they'd ever taken.

Sami opened her eyes, and lush scenery spread out for miles in front of them. She knew this spot. In just another minute, they would be cresting a hill, and the view would be stunning...panoramic...and before she could finish that thought, there it was. Miles of nothing but beautiful, unspoiled nature. This was probably her favorite spot in the canyon, for it was this spot that always reinforced her and EJ's decision to not only move away from Salem, but to move out of the city limits of Castle Rock as well.

It represented the new start they had wanted for their family because it was so different from anything they were used to, and the kids could have lives without already having a reputation to fight. It represented purity in an environment so far removed from the toxicities and ugliness of their lives in Salem that they felt like those problems didn't even exist. It represented the little bubble they wanted to create for their marriage, a place where the outside people and influences and situations that had helped pull them off track before did not have a place.

Yes, EJ's family would always be an issue, and no, the Bradys weren't ever really going to like that Sami married him. Yes, they were going to have knock down, drag out fights; as hard as they loved, they could fight just as hard. But they were certain that if they were left to their own devices, they would be better off than with all the naysayers around, and they had been right. Were they perfect? No. Was their marriage? No.

But their life together was pretty darn close.

Cruising down the hill, Sami closed her eyes against the rush of tears that suddenly overcame her. How many days like this did she have left? How many days did she have left period? I made her sick to realize how much time she had wasted. It killed her to think of how many years she had spent pushing EJ away when he would've laid the world at her feet if she would've only let him love her. If she hadn't been so stubborn, they would've had so much more time. Maybe it would've been enough to face the thought...no. They could have fifty, sixty years, and it wouldn't be enough. No amount of time with EJ would be enough to make her accept leaving him. Didn't she pray to God everyday that he would take them like Noah and Ali in "The Notebook": together?

Of course even with that prayer, Sami had never considered—_really_ _considered_—the idea that neither of them would live forever. Once she let EJ in, she never had any intention of letting him go. When she pictured her life as an old woman, he was an old man right beside her, and then...well...she didn't know. All she knew was that she never had to live another day without him.

She had heard it said that death only hurts the loved ones left behind, but Sami wasn't so sure. She knew what the church taught about the afterlife, but she still had to wonder if she wouldn't miss EJ with all of her being if they were separated even there?

Wouldn't she watch him go through life and long to slip her hand into his large, protecting grasp? Long to hold him and be held in return? Wish with all her might to beat the daylights out of every woman that looked his way? Because they would. EJ was still too handsome not to be noticed. He was still healthy and active, and he was rich and powerful. Yes, the ladies would definitely be trying to grab his attention.

_At least he would never look twice at another woman. A_s soon as the thought crossed her mind, Sami felt a slight twinge of quilt. _Is that selfish: not to want him with another woman? Especially knowing how miserable I'm expecting to be without him? Shouldn't I want him to find happiness-a way to ease that pain-any way he can? _

She turned to stare at her husband's profile, trying to picture someone taking her place in his life. Tried to envision what it would look like to have someone else loving him, kissing him...sharing his bed..**.** Sami had to stop; just imagining it was about to kill her on the spot. Selfish or not, she couldn't bear the thought of him moving on with his life in that way.

EJ was still concentrating on navigating the curves of the road safely, and to anyone else, it wouldn't appear that he had noticed his wife's scrutiny at all, but Sami knew better. He rarely missed anything, especially when it came to her and the kids, and indeed, as soon as the road opened into the flat straight away which would take them home, he reached for her hand. Without taking his eyes from the road or saying a word, he intertwined his fingers through hers, lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss across her wrist bone. Then he pressed their clasped hands to his cheek.

He didn't let go until they were home.

And Sami didn't say anything when she felt a tear run down her arm.

* * *

_"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women..__**.**__"_ Nanny Crumb slowly, painfully worked the rosary beads between her gnarled fingers as she prayed. Her arthritis was acting up today. _"...and blessed is the fruit of thy womb...__**.**__ "_

Her life hadn't always been that of the most devout of her faith, but she had always been diligent about her daily prayers, and today, she prayed with a special burden on her heart. Nothing and no one had ever been able to move her to prayer like her little EJ.

That is how she still thought of him: her little EJ, even though he was a grown man with children and grandchildren of his own. She still saw him as that mischievous little boy with a restless heart (at the age of five, he nearly had been too much for a girl of twenty). She still saw that rackish young man that hid the depths of his empty soul behind fake smiles, laughter and always looking for the next adventure.

"…_Mother of God, pray for us sinners now..__**.**__" _That emptiness in his eyes and soul is what always drove her to her knees when he was young, kept her there when he went away to become the son of Stefano DiMera and renewed her purpose when he returned a broken man to mend his shattered heart.

But at that time, she prayed in joy. She prayed in joy because for as much pain as he was feeling, it meant his soul was no longer empty. He had found something—and more specifically, _someone_—to give his life meaning, and for that, she rejoiced. She knew that this Samantha he spoke of was "the one", but that it would take an act of God to bring them together, so she had prayed with a fervency that she hadn't known before.

Unfortunately, EJ was never one to make things easy, and for a time, Nanny Crumb feared that her prayers were going no higher than the ceiling. But the day he abruptly came to tell her goodbye, the light in his eyes told her everything she needed to know: he wasn't going to forget about his love; he was going home to fight for her. When the news of their engagement finally came, Nanny doubted that even his own mother was happier for him than she was as she wept with the formal announcement clasped to her heart.

Two weeks later, a second letter from EJ had arrived, requesting—begging, actually—for her to come and be the nanny for his young children, and she didn't have a moment's pause about accepting. She would have accepted if he hadn't included the list of provisions that he had already neatly taken care of for her life in England and detailed the life he hoped to provided for her in the US, making it pretty impossible for her to refuse. As soon as her flight could be arranged, she had come.

Now it was almost thirty years later. Nanny Crumb knew that she was nearing the end of her life, and she often reflected on the past. She had precious few regrets, and none of them had anything to do with living with EJ and his family. Raising his children had been a delight, and meeting his Samantha, finally meeting the source of the light in EJ's eyes and seeing how much he doted on and adored her—and was doted on and adored in return—had been nothing short of a gift from God. For this reason, she added a special prayer to the end of her Hail Maries:

"Please…he won't survive. Take me instead."

* * *

Sami stepped through the front door of the house and let her eyes rove around the foyer and then over the dual staircase to the floor above. She had always pictured living in a regular house with a regular yard in a regular neighborhood when she pictured raising a family, and after spending time in the DiMera mansion, she had sworn she would never live in a house like that. But when they moved to Castle Rock, EJ had insisted that she at least look at this place, and she immediately had fallen in love.

It was a mansion; there was no other way to describe it. It sported a pool, hot tube, tennis courts, hot house...to say that the family lacked for nothing was something of an understatement. There were even a few servants quarters on the property, though none of their staff lived with them. Well, except for Nanny Crumb, but she was family, and had a suite of her own in the main house. No; the servants quarters had been uses mostly by the kids for various reasons over the years. Hide and seek at age eight; sleep overs at thirteen (they felt so grown up out on their own, never knowing that she and EJ would sneak out and set up camp in the dwelling next door when the music was so loud that the kids didn't notice and slip away again before the sun came up). Eventually each one of them had taken one of the houses as their own when they had graduated high-school and gone to college, getting their first tastes of independence before really striking out into the world.

In typical Sami fashion though, she couldn't openly admit that she was in love with this place. It's opulence reminded her too much of "The DiMera Mansion" of Salem. But in typical EJ fashion, he could read her like a book, and he had held her in his arms and painted a verbal picture of their life for her. A picture in which "The DiMera Mansion" was a place where family loved unconditionally, laughed, argued and cried together and didn't keep secrets from each other. A place where friends were always welcome and strangers wouldn't leave as such. A place where they remembered how richly they were blessed, and empty hands were sent away full.

"Imagine it, Samantha," he had whispered. "This isn't a mansion. This is our home. And our home will be so different from my father's, you could never compare the two."

How could a woman argue with that? Sami couldn't, and she had marveled several times over the years about how right EJ had been. It was their family that dictated what memories were associated with this house. Not Stefano, Kate, deceit and lies or any other bad memory from their past. You couldn't compare the two.

Silent feet carried Sami up the staircase to her left. Soon she was standing in front of the portaits of her children, and she studied them as if she was seeing them for the first time.

First was Will's—his grin as boyish as ever. His smile had been missing lately, and though he wasn't ready to talk about it, Sami was sure it had to do with the demise of his last relationship. She hadn't ever thought his partner was good enough for him, but Will had been head-over-heels in love, so she had done her level best to keep her mouth shut.

In front of Will, anyway. EJ and Lucas had certainly gotten many ears full of her feelings that Will was being taken advantage of for his money and connections, that whatever-his-name-was was rude and condescending to them all and any number of things on her long list of concerns. Sometimes they agreed; sometimes they didn't. But they were both very diligent in their encouragement for her not to meddle. All she wanted to do now was find the guy and nail his hide to the wall for hurting her son, but EJ had threatened to tie her to their bedpost if she actually tried it.

"William would not thank you for interfering, darling; you know that." It was all said quite calmly, with a twinkle in his eye and a sweet kiss that said while he was sorry for Will, he was enjoying her motherly tantrum immensely. Sami was also sure that while he wouldn't actually tie her to their bed, he would shadow her like the secret service if he thought that she was serious about carrying out her plan.

Having EJ on your tail was never fun, and she knew he was right, so for now, Sami contented herself with carrying out her plan in fantasies in her head, and praying that her son—so much more a friend these days—would get his smile back.

Next, was Johnny—or John, as he liked to be called now. So much like his father, he took his role and head of his family very seriously, and that devotion shown through the picture of he and his family. It was a few years old; Madelyn had been going through her Terrible Twos (her fierce frown forever a testament to that), and Gracie was just a baby in her mother's arms.

Sami let her eyes rest on Adeline, Johnny's wife, and couldn't love her more if she were her own daughter. She was called Addie for short, and Sami felt a sort of kinship with her. She had been bullied and teased for her plain looks and old fashioned name and even older parents who were poor and couldn't give her the latest, greatest and best. She had often been passed over for someone prettier, smarter or more talented no matter what she tried to do. Sami could relate to that.

Addie had confided in her mother-in-law that she was at the end of her rope, desperately unhappy and contemplating taking her life when she was in the ninth grade, but then Johnny stood up for her one day. He promised to be her friend and that he wasn't going to let anyone else bully her every again. She couldn't imagine why he would do that or why he kept his promise so faithfully even though she kept telling him that he didn't have to. But she prayed every night that he would stay because she had already fallen in love with him.

Looking at Ali was like looking at a younger version of her mother. While Johnny's seriousness and love and devotion to family marked his face, Ali looked like she probably instigated at least half of the trouble her identical twin boys, Max and Zachary, got themselves into. And her husband, Kyle, looked like he would thoroughly enjoy himself right along with them.

Kyle was fun loving for sure, but he worked hard. He was laid back and the perfect balance to Ali's impulsive, high-strung nature. He usually laughed and followed along with whatever plan she had and then quietly picked up the pieces of whatever got wrecked in the process. Sami, EJ and Lucas couldn't imagine the patience that was needed to deal with all the chaos, but he seemed to love every minute, and they loved him for it.

Finally, there was her precious baby girl, Sydney. Sydney had turned into quite a beauty, turning the heads of every man that she passed (giving her father fits of panic every time it happened), but she didn't know it. Sami guessed that she assumed all the dates she had waiting for her on the weekend was normal. But the attention hadn't gone to her head, thank goodness, and she remained as sweet as she ever was. Her and Jeremy's engagement picture reflected that: a beautiful, sweet young woman that was perfectly happy to be in the arms of the man beside her.

Jeremy had fallen into the, "Not Good Enough for My Child" category when they first go together, and both Sami and EJ had struggled in trying not to meddle. Really struggled. He was the most popular boy on campus, and as quarter back of the football time at a top university in the country, the most recognized as well. He was well on his way to the NFL, didn't you know? Everyone adored him, and he knew it. His swagger said, "You should."

Nobody knew exactly how it happened—the sack looked so routine, and the opposing lineman hadn't even hit him that hard—but on a perfect Saturday afternoon, Jeremy's dreams had been shattered when his neck was broken in the middle of a game. The doctor's prognosis had been grim: he likely would never walk again.

Going through that unbelievably dark time had changed him. He was no longer that kid that took everything for granted or thought he was better than anyone because he was loved for throwing a football. Through blood, sweat, tears and determination—and with Sydney—Jeremy learned to walk again. Not as easily or as gracefully as he once had, but he didn't care. He was just grateful that he wasn't in a wheel chair.

And now they were having a baby.

Sami reached out to touch the frame, and a tear rolled down her cheek. More than anything in the world, she wanted to live to see that baby. She wanted to hold that child in her arms, kiss its sweet head and smell its precious baby smell. But she wasn't sure that she had the strength. She wasn't sure that she could make it through more rounds of chemo or radiation, and no matter what front she had put on for her snot-nosed surgeon, the truth was that she was afraid.

She was afraid that she wouldn't live to see the birth of her newest grandchild. She was afraid that she wouldn't live to see the other four grow up, see Will smile again or be a part of the beautiful lives her children were building for themselves, and that caused a pain as harsh as the thought of leaving their father behind.

How could she do it? How could she ever say goodbye?

* * *

Nanny Crumb knew that he didn't know that she was watching him. Watching him watch his wife—who was obviously crying—from his position in the foyer below her. She knew that he was unaware of the grief that marked his entire body, giving her the news that she had just prayed that he wouldn't receive.

No. His focus was solely on his Samantha.

Nanny watched as he deliberately took the stairs of the opposite staircase two steps at a time and then slowly approached the woman he loved. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind and gently kissed the top of her head.

For a moment, all was quiet. And then, as if the pressure of EJ arms finally burst through the dam in Sami's heart, she began to sob. Loud, harsh, heartbreaking sobs that would have buckled her knees if EJ had not been holding her up. He swept her into his arms and carried her around the corner and down the hallway that led to their bedroom, Sami's cries heard clearly all the way.

Stepping back into the shadows, Nanny Crumbs own tears fell, and she was not surprised when Hiram, the faithful butler that saw all, heard all and revealed nothing, stepped toward her. By the look on his face, it was obvious he had been watching as well, and he quietly voiced what both of them were thinking.

"Heaven help us. What are we going to do?"

* * *

_Memories of the Maserati were used with permission for another fiction called, **"The Journey"** , by wallflower._

_Nanny Crumb came to us, also with permission, from England and **"Moonlit Wishes", **by cheergirl_

_Both authors and their stories can be found at **Forbidden Love, and EJami fan forum**, the #1 place for all things, EJami._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3 ~**

"Timmy? Timmy? Timmy, where are you?" Analiese tried not to panic as she rushed around the house looking for her son. "Timmy, please don't hide from Mommy! Timmy!"

The little boy still didn't answer.

_Honey...of all the times for you to hide from me... _Analiese finally came to a stop in the middle of the kitchen and tried to think logically. Derek would be home in a little over an hour, and he would be angry if everything wasn't perfect.

There were still the finishing touches to put on the meal, the dining room table to set and the appropriate bottle of wine to be chosen and chilled. Actually she should've already done that to ensure that it was the perfect temperature for her husband when he arrived; he would surely notice and say something when he took his first sip. Plus, she still had to freshen up and get Timmy dressed. She had to keep her wits about her if she was going to pull this off.

But she had to find Timmy first. _OK. Where would he hide? There aren't that many places he could be._ The thought should have calmed her, but it didn't. In a house as large as theirs, there were plenty of places for a five year old to stow away, and a lot of times—like right now—Timmy seemed to simply vanish. He would just be gone, causing Analiese to panic and Derek to yell and curse—mostly about how stupid she had to be if she couldn't even keep track of her own kid.

Maybe he was right. What kind of mother didn't know where her child was at all times? It didn't matter that, invariably, Timmy always turned up—as suddenly as he had disappeared—never the worse for wear. The important thing was that she had lost her son and a good mother never would.

The wafting smell of beef momentarily brought Analiese out of her panic, and she quickly went to turn down the temperature on the oven. Until she found Timmy, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else, and Derek was going to be mad enough about the "state of his home" as it was. It wouldn't do to have his dinner's main dish inedible as well.

"Timmy! Mommy needs you to come out right now, please. You can't hide from me right now." Starting her search from the beginning, Analiese went through the house room by room, looking in every nook and cranny she could think of, to no avail. Timmy was nowhere to be found.

Where could he possibly have gone? He knew he wasn't supposed to go outside if he didn't tell her first, but maybe...she ran out into the backyard and around the house to the front, calling her son's name the entire way, and still he did not answer.

Panic began to set in for real for Analiese as she walked back into the house, picturing every tragic explanation possible. Could he have wandered outside and someone taken him? It was a crazy thought, but so was the fact that he had disappeared into thin air under her very nose. Just as she thought she would go crazy with all the possibilities, she entered the kitchen and gasped in surprise and relief.

There was Timmy, standing in the middle of the room, clutching his teddy bear and looking very sleepy.

"Timmy! Oh, Timmy!" Analiese fell to her knees, hugging the little boy as tightly as she could even as her relief made her weak. "Where were you? You scared me!"

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I felled 'sleep."

"You fell asleep?" Analiese chuckled. "I guess you played hard this afternoon; you earned a nap," and then she frowned. "But I looked for you everywhere. Where were you?"

Timmy's little face fell, and his whole body stiffened with fear, but he stood up straight and tried to answer. "I—I was…" He swallowed hard as his voice cut off and tried to speak again. "I was in…ina…"

"That's OK, honey. You are safe now; that's all that matters." Analiese interrupted her stammering son and held his stiff body tightly in her arms. "It's OK." It took another second or two for Timmy to relax, but she still held him until he put his arms around her neck. "I love you, baby," she said.

"I love you too, Mommy," he answered softly.

It broke her heart to see the fear he showed when she demanded an answer to a simple question. It broke her heart to feel the hesitance, the initial resistance in his body to her hug afterwards. Both were responses planted and cultivated at his father's hand. Derek demanded so much of him. His approach was so harsh and cold, and he gave nothing in return.

Analiese felt a huge burden of responsibility for the pain her son had to endure. Her own bad choices from the beginning had brought him into a life that she hadn't envisioned when she dreamt of the family she would have someday. It was why she spent so much time trying to make it up to him with extra hugs and kisses and an especially gentle hand; her child shouldn't have to pay for her sins.

But she didn't have time to mourn the dreams lost or the bad decisions that she wished she could take back. She settled Timmy in a chair at the table with a glass of juice and a kiss on his forehead. "Drink your juice, love, and please don't move from this spot, OK? I have a lot to do before Daddy gets home."

Timmy nodded quickly, his eyes serious and a little anxious. "I promise, Mommy. I will stay here; promise," he said again.

Analiese had to fight hard against the tears that were welling up inside her. A child shouldn't feel anxiety at the thought of their father coming home from work. She liked to think that he was too young to really understand exactly what was at stake if things weren't perfect when Derek arrived, but she knew that he wasn't. She had read all the books, and simple observations of her son's behavior convinced her they were right: children felt and understood more than they were given credit for.

Dropping a final pat on her son's head, Analiese rushed to finish the dinner preparations, but even as she worked, she couldn't get away from thoughts about the past. As had become habit as each dream and expectation she had ever had for her life had fallen at her feet, she relived every moment that had led her to this point.

She had been young, in age as much as in life experience. The life of an orthodox Jew is strictly ordered by the laws and traditions as set forth in the Torah. The laws extend to cover everything from practices and proper behavior in worship to what is and isn't acceptable in every aspect of practical everyday life. As a daughter of the rabbi of a synagogue in which the Torah was interpreted very closely, Analiese had lived her life in a glass box.

In a congregation as small as the one in which she grew up, every move she made was scrutinized and commented on—by everyone. If someone felt her skirt was too short or neckline too revealing, she would receive a disapproving look, and without fail, there would be a discussion about it with her father later that night. Also without fail, the discussion would end with the removal of the offending article of clothing from her wardrobe. If she talked too long with a boy, one would've thought she'd gone off and actually slept with him by the way people acted.

But those were only two examples. The books she read, activities she chose, hobbies she pursued, everything was or wasn't allowed based not only on what would be acceptable religious practice, but also on how it would be perceived by the members of the congregation.

Her attendance for worship services was also an issue of utmost importance. She had endured many lectures on the necessity of the rabbi's family setting an example with their lives, and it started with synagogue attendance. She was expected to be there whenever the doors were open and expected to stay until everyone else was gone or at least until one of her parents left. Usually it was her mother, as synagogue business or concerns of the congregants often kept her father busy until late.

Her mother, Katarina, had been her life line, trying to make things easier for Analiese as she could. Occasionally she would be able to change her husband's mind on a subject in their daughter's favor, but not often. She tried to remind him that their little Ana was more than Rabbi Joseph Mayer's daughter and that she sometimes needed her father more than the congregation needed their leader, but that was a reminder whose effect didn't last longer than a day or two; eventually the demands of his position would once again take over their lives.

When she was a child, all it took was her mother's homemade` gefilte or one of her fresh Pirushkes to make Analiese forget her troubles, but as she got older, she began to resent and resist the scrutiny and restrictions of her life more and more. And though she was everything a proper young Jewish woman should be on the outside, her mother knew the rebellion that was growing in her heart.

"Don't be so hard on him, my darling," she'd say. "He's just trying to do what is right." Or, "Perhaps he is a little hard on you, dear, but whatever your father does, don't turn your back on God. He will give you everything you need." Little did she know that her best intentions were only serving to fuel the fire.

It was after a particularly trying weekend that she met her husband.

Volunteering at a local hospital was deemed a perfect opportunity for service for Analiese, and even though she didn't let her parents know it, she really liked the work. She especially loved when she was assigned to the pediatrics floor to help keep the kids occupied, and she eventually requested to work only in that department.

She would never forget the day Derek Graven walked onto the floor. She wasn't sure what it was about him that struck her so in the beginning; standing beside the nurse's station, there was nothing that particularly stood out about him, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Maybe it was the way the nurses were scurrying around, whispering among themselves with knowing looks on their faces and giggling like school girls. It was obvious that despite how he looked that he was _somebody_. He asked for Bethany, and someone quickly went to find her. While he waited, he idly looked her way, and their eyes locked.

The connection had been instant. As bad as things had turned out, Analiese never doubted that particular moment; whatever drew him to her had drawn her to him. She could still feel the pull whenever she thought about it. In fact, he was still staring when Bethany walked up to him, and he had greeted her rather distractedly.

It always surprised her that Bethany hadn't seemed to notice; she was too delighted to see him, she guessed. When their discussion was over, and Bethany walked him to the elevator, he turned to look at Annalise one more time. Her experience was non-existent, but she recognized the look in his eye and the warmth in her belly. It was just that natural.

Analiese began to volunteer more and more hours at the hospital in hopes of seeing him again, but as weeks went by without a glimpse, those hopes began to wane very quickly, though she managed to learn quite a bit about him by listening and asking a few discreet questions.

He was a resident surgeon at the time. Bethany had met him when running an errand to the surgical ward, and he had stopped her on her way out. He was estranged from his father, but he never wanted to talk about it, so Bethany didn't know much about the situation or his family, though he did have six younger siblings. She was desperately in love, declaring him the sweetest man she had ever known.

"I swear, if he hadn't stopped me, I never would've noticed or thought twice about him. And I don't know why I agreed to go out with him the first time," she had remarked, "but, I'm so glad I did. It was fate, I guess. Just one of those things that was meant to be," she finished dreamily.

Analiese had dismissed Bethany's claims easily. She was sure that if things were as good as she said they were, the moment between the two of them would've never happened. The fact that he was estranged from his father added just another level of intrigue to things; was there anyone better to understand problems with one's father?

Any hope she had of seeing Derek again had all but died until she absently stepped into an elevator at the end of one of her shifts, and his voice sounded behind her.

"I've been hoping I would see you again."

Her heart had stopped in her chest, and when she turned to look at him, it was as electrifying as the first time.

They fell fast and furious after that—in secret, of course. Her parents would've forbid her to see him and he had to find the right time to break the news to Bethany. Analiese knew that the secrecy was wrong, and she was definitely wrong for dating another woman's boyfriend. And she was equally wrong that she didn't feel too sorry for Bethany when she came to work heartbroken over her breakup and her part in it.

But she couldn't find it in her heart to care about any of that. She needed to be with Derek, and he assured her that he needed to be with her too. The first time he asked her to sleep with him, she did with only the slightest twinge of guilt. She wanted him too much to deny him anything.

That need is what got her in trouble in the end. Needing to be with him more and more made her take greater and greater risks to do so, and eventually she had been caught out with him by one of the congregants. By the time she got home that night, her parents already had been told, and her father was in a towering rage.

It was the first and only time that he almost struck her. He raged over the embarrassment she had caused him and her mother and the damage dealt to his ministry. He nearly screamed about all the laws she had broken and demanded to know how she could care so little for her soul? And then her forbid her to ever see "that man" again.

If it had not been for that, Analeise would have found a way to bear it all; she had born the burden of impossible expectations all of her life. But to not see Derek anymore was a notion not to be entertained. She didn't know who was more surprised—her parents or herself—when she dared to stand up and defy him, but all the hurt and resentment of the past came pouring out as she became just as angry as her father and refused to back down. When her father ordered her to leave the house, she was already packing.

Derek picked her up and took her back to his place. He held her while she cried and promised that he would make everything OK. He told her that she didn't need to think about the life she was leaving behind ever again if she didn't want to because he would take good care of her; he would be her family now.

Thinking back over the memory now, Analiese always saw it as the beginning of the end. It wasn't until many years later that she realized that in all of his promises that night, he never actually said that he loved her. He never cried with her or said that he was sorry for the trouble he had caused. In her distress she hadn't paid attention then, but now she could clearly recall how uncomfortable he looked with the whole situation, as if he were getting caught up in something he never wanted or expected to.

In the past, she had always pushed that last thought out of her mind. Of course Derek loved her and was thrilled to have her as his wife—no matter how it had come about. But, these days, she wasn't so sure. Maybe she had been a passing phase for him, but for whatever reason he felt like he couldn't actually leave her without anywhere to go. Maybe he felt like he had been trapped and resented her for it. It seemed like the only reason that everything could go so bad so fast.

Tears filled Analiese's eyes as she looked in the mirror, finishing getting dressed for dinner just as she heard her husband pull into the garage. Everything was almost perfect for his arrival: dinner would be ready in a few minutes, the wine was chilling, the house was clean, and both she and Timmy were nicely dressed. Hopefully he wouldn't be in too foul of a mood.

This wasn't the life she thought she would be living with the man she loved so much. But it was the life she had made for herself when she couldn't see past how much she loved Derek and how many hours it would be until she could see him again. So, it was too late; she didn't have any place to go now.

Not for the first time, she wished she had taken her mother's tearful goodbye to heart instead of letting it strengthen her resolve: "Whatever you go, whoever you are with, don't forget God, my darling. Whatever you do, don't forget God."

"I don't forget, Mama. Not anymore," Analiese whispered.

But as she took her son's hand and led him downstairs, she had to wonder if God had forgotten her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4 ~

Early morning hadn't always been Sami's favorite time of day. When the kids were young, the early morning hours had been filled with getting everyone dressed and fed and off to school, or with doing laundry, going grocery shopping**,** and whatever householdchore she could fit into the few hours before her attention was needed elsewhere. Those had been years when she would have given anything for an extra hour or two of sleep, and she had sometimes looked forward to the days when the kids were old enough that their every need didn't consume her.

She had mentioned that to her mother after one particularly exhausting day, and Marlena had laughed quietly. "Oh, my dear girl," she had said. "Those days are gone forever. Your kids' needs will always consume you—whether or not you're directly responsible for them—and sleeping in? Never again; not really. Mothers kind of give that up for good."

Sami often thought of that conversation, especially in recent years now that only she and EJ and the staff rattled around in the big old mansion. She wished she could tell her mom that she understood all too well now and how this time had become hers to gain perspective for the day, but she couldn't. Marlena had left them in mind if not in body several years ago. There was a cruel irony in a well-respected psychiatrist being ravaged by the devastating effects of Alzheimer's disease.

"I miss you, Mom," Sami whispered into the dawn. She had hated her mother for most of her life**,** but eventually learned to forgive her for marrying John, and their relationship had been one of much love for many years. Like a mother that never stopped being consumed by her children's needs, children never stopped needing their parents; she needed her mother now more than ever. Today was the day of her surgery.

Sami stood outside on the balcony off the bedroom she shared with EJ, and watched the sun slowly make its appearance on the horizon. The last of the night air held a slight chill, so she wrapped her bathrobe around her frame more tightly. Not that it would help. The coldness that she was feeling was coming from the inside, from deep inside her heart. The only way to ward it off was to turn back time and change the outcome of her appointment with Dr. Graven.

If that one appointment had gone differently, everything that came after it never would've happened. There would not have been an appointment with Dr. Sabarra, her oncologist. Dr. Sabarra would not have confirmed Dr. Graven's original diagnosis, and she wouldn't have agreed with his assessment that the cancer was worse this time; all that was left was to determine how much worse. If it wasn't for that first appointment, perhaps she would simply be standing outside, wondering when her husband would miss her beside him and come and join her, instead of getting ready to have both of her breasts removed**.**

While it wasn't strictly necessary—her most recent mammogram confirmed that only one breast was affected—Sami knew that if she survived, she couldn't face this a third time, and Dr. Sabarra had agreed; given her history, it was better to be safe than sorry.

But knowing in her head that it was the right decision didn't take away the ache in her heart. It didn't take away her fears, the ones that didn't have anything to do with cancer or death and dying. The ones that refused to be silenced and chilled her to her core. EJ said they were baseless; he tried to convince her that they shouldn't even be on the list of her worries, but how could they not be? Finally too cold to stand it any longer, Sami stepped back inside.

EJ was still sleeping—at first glance anyway. Upon closer study, Sami could see his eyelids flutter ever so slightly, and his breathing was much too shallow. She had a feeling that he had been watching her all along, but was giving her the time she needed to be alone for now.

Emphasis on, "for now." He had barely slept a wink all night. He was worried about today also—though he hadn't said so—and she knew that he would stay close to her. It was his way of feeling like he was protecting her in a situation in which he knew he had no control.

He always protected her. It used to make her crazy that he felt like he had to protect her all the time, like she was a fragile china doll that he was afraid would break at any moment. But she had come to rely on that fact over the years and had learned to cherish that about him. How could she be upset that she had a husband who wanted nothing more than to keep her safe and take care of her for the rest of his life?

Even though she knew EJ was awake, Sami tiptoed into the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind her. It was still early—they wouldn't have to leave to go to the hospital for a few hours—but she didn't see the point in putting off the inevitable. This was happening; she couldn't pretend it wasn't or put off facing it anymore.

The door was hard against her back, and Sami breathed deeply, thinking about what she had planned to do. It would probably seem odd to anyone else given the circumstances, but she wanted to pamper herself one more time, pamper herself one more time before the surgeon's knife changed her forever. Before she felt differently about her body than she did right now.

She opened the vanity that held her extensive collection of bath products, quickly choosing her favorite bubble bath, and then moved to sit on the edge of the bath tub. She set the water to the perfect temperature and allowed the tub to fill, drizzling a generous amount of bubble bath directly under the running water, and then she idly trailed her fingers through the rising water as the tub continued to fill. After a moment, she stood to turn on her iPod that she left in its docking station on the wall.

Her playlists were wide and varied, usually designed for a specific activity, and the playlist for her bath time was no different. All soothing instrumental arrangements with beautiful melodies perfect for relaxing and the renewing of one's soul.

As the first strains floated quietly out to fill the room, Sami tried to clear her mind, concentrate only on feeling well and whole, but her eyes fixed on the image in the free standing full length mirror in the corner. Unable to stop herself, she walked across the room to stand directly in front of it, letting her bathrobe fall to the floor as she went. After a few moments, she lifted her nightgown over her head and slowly unfastened her bra, both making a silky pile at her feet.

Staring at her reflection with her hands on her hips, she tried to imagine how her image would be changed the next time she stood in this spot; she couldn't. It was like trying to imagine her face without one of her eyes or one of her legs without a foot. Her breasts were just as much a part of her. They might not be much to brag about at her age, but they were hers. They still filled out her blouses, giving her her feminine silhouette. They had been a source of nourishment for her children, a source of pleasure for her husband—and in turn, herself. They were—in the most basic sense—what made her a woman.

She crossed her arms over her chest, letting the weight of them fill her palms. They looked healthy; if she didn't know any better, they felt healthy as well. How was it possible that something that was measured in centimeters could be hidden inside, possibly poised to take her life?

A very light knock sounded at the door, and Sami's eyes met EJ's in the mirror as he poked his head around it and stepped inside. Without breaking their gaze, he turned off the water pouring into the tub and came to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands covering hers where they still rested over her chest.

"You are beautiful, and I love you," he whispered. "You will always be beautiful, and I will always love you."

Tears filled Sami's eyes. "How can you be sure? I won't look the same; I won't feel the same."

"I am perfectly sure, and yes; you will feel the same to me."

"No; it will never be the same," Sami said again. She turned in his arms, stood on tip toe so her chest was pressed against his and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. "It will never feel like this again."

EJ's look was intense, and even though they weren't skin to skin, Sami could see his desire for her flame in his eyes. He gently pulled one of her arms from around him and placed her hand over his heart. "Can you feel that?"

Sami's eyes closed, and a tear trickled onto her cheek at the feel of his heart beneath her hand, its beat strong and fast, the way it always did when he wanted her. "Yes."

"_You_ do that to me, Samantha; _you_. You always have." He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "You make me feel like this," he repeated. "And as long as I'm holding you in my arms, it will always feel the same."

He kissed her then, a kiss born of a mixture of desire and need: desire for her and a need to drive every doubt she had away. And as Sami kissed him back, all she knew was that she loved this man more in that moment than she ever had.

* * *

"EJ, don't lie to me."

"You don't have to take that tone with me, Lexi," EJ retorted testily.

"I wouldn't if you would learn to stop trying to hide things from me," Lexi shot back. "Especially when it comes to your feelings," she finished in gentler tones.

EJ stared at her, determined to prove to his ever intuitive sister that she was wrong in her assessment of his mental state, but found his defenses crumbling to dust in the face of her own unwavering gaze. "Fine; I'm a wreck, OK?" he bit out angrily. "Is that what you want to hear? I'm a complete and utter wreck! And it is difficult enough to be strong for Samantha without you…with…ahh…"

EJ spun away from her to hide the first tear that slid down his cheek, but Lexi saw it. Not that it would have mattered if she hadn't. Once the dam broke, the tide couldn't be stemmed. The tears ran in silent rivers down his cheeks. When she wrapped her arms around his waist, she could feel how much he was trembling—and not just from the tears themselves.

_Oh, EJ,_ she thought in exasperation. As determined as ever to make a go of things on his own, always set on taking the hardest road available to him. Why did he insist on carrying the heaviest burdens alone when all he had to do was reach out to the people that were just waiting to help him?

Lexi was glad for this little bit of time alone with her brother, even if the waiting room at the hospital wasn't the place she would have chosen**.** The nurses had sent them out of Sami's room while they began her admission and basic prep for surgery—much to EJ's dismay, even though he had tried to cover it. Since her nieces and nephews hadn't arrived yet, and John, their own uncle and Sami's stepfather, had excused himself to do something (Lexi wasn't sure what), it was just the two of them.

"EJ, why do you do this to yourself? Why do you hold it all in?" she asked softly. Her brother didn't immediately answer, but she was patient. He rarely was anything but fully honest with her once she put him on the spot.

"What was I supposed to say, Lexi, hmm?" he asked brokenly. "Was I supposed to tell you I'm absolutely terrified? Was I supposed to talk about how I have barely slept since we got the news because I'm afraid that if I close my eyes for even a second, she will be taken away in my sleep? Or perhaps you would have rather heard about the times I wake up in sheer terror that it has already happened?"

"Yes, EJ! Yes! I'm your sister, and even though you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, it's still my job to be there when you sometimes need a little help. How many times do I have to tell you that?" she asked with mild censure in her voice. "You're so hard headed sometimes," she finished fondly.

Even EJ had to chuckle slightly in spite of himself at that, but only for a moment. Now that he had let his feelings see the light of day, they wouldn't be put away. He turned back to look at Lexi with eyes that showed the depths of fear haunting his soul, and it was almost more than she could bear. How had he been laboring under it for all these weeks?

"Oh, honey!" she exclaimed softly, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. He returned her hug like a man that was trying to find something—anything—to hold on to to save himself from drowning. In fact he hugged her so tightly, so wasn't entirely sure her ribs weren't going to break.

"What do I do, Lexi? What if I lose her?" he asked, anguish marking every word.

"You're not. Sami is not going to leave you; you know that better than all of us," Lexi said.

She hoped she sounded as confident as she wanted EJ to think she was. The doctor in her was calculating the statistics and trying to come up with any way that a relapse in breast cancer would mean anything but death, but she had her doubts. EJ didn't need to know that. He needed as much hope as she could give him. He needed a reason to believe his wife would be OK. "Sami is one of the strongest women I know. She's one of the strongest women I know," she repeated, to reassure herself.

Sami _was_ one of the strongest women they all knew and one of the most stubborn as well. Lexi needed to hold on to that, needed to believe that her sister-in-law would get well as much as EJ did.

Because if EJ lost his wife, Lexi would lose her brother in the very same day. Of that she had no doubt.

* * *

"I'm OK, Dad."

"Not yet. I think we have a little time; the nurses said the anesthesiologist is running a bit behind this morning."

"Yep, everyone is here."

Derek Graven paused outside of the doorway to Mrs. DiMera's hospital room and listened to her side of what he assumed was a phone conversation.

"Dad, stop. It happened so quickly, and you had just gotten out to Carrie's….well, of course you had to go; it was the best time for Eric to take you…for the same reason Lexi brought John with her today instead of letting him drive, Dad. It's our turn to take care of you guys now," she finished wryly.

_Huh. So he doesn't want his kids telling him what to do either_, Derek grimaced, thinking of his own father. Just as stubborn and ungrateful for all his kids were doing for him as this man was.

"Dad. Dad! Stop it. Carrie has been dying for you to come out to California to see hers and Austin's new place, and Isaac is thrilled that you are there to see him graduate from medical school**,**" Sami said, speaking of her sister, brother-in-law and nephew. "Stay and enjoy yourself, and we'll keep you posted. Love you, too. Can you put Carrie on for a second?"

A sister, apparently, but Derek didn't pay much more attention than that. He was still stuck on the moment where Mrs. DiMera said that she loved her father _too_, as in, _also_. In response to his saying that he loved her. He loved his daughter and was worried about her, like any normal father would be in this situation.

All fathers except his own. His father was a selfish sycophant. Always had been and probably still was, if he was still alive. Derek didn't know and didn't really care. He had cut the man out of his life the minute he had turned down Derek's gift all those years ago, and he became officially dead to him the day he laid his mother in the ground. Derek wanted no part of the man that had caused that precious woman's death, and he had made it abundantly clear to his younger siblings. They could do as they pleased in their own relationships with their father, but they were never to mention his name in Derek's presence. Ever.

"Dr. Graven?" Derek was surprised to see the slight nurse standing in front of him, looking at him questioningly. "Is there something you need? Are you ready for Mrs. DiMera?" she asked.

"Uh…yes." Derek pushed down the painful memories of his past and addressed the girl with his usual cool indifference. . "I was just getting ready to go in and speak with her. You should prepare to bring her to OR Three in a few moments."

The nurse nodded and hurried away, calling to several co-workers on the way who also scurried to make sure everything was in order, and Derek found strength in the site. This was his domain, the place where his word was respected and obeyed. It was the place where he was in control and had the knowledge to predict outcomes and the skill and power to change lives. He had earned and deserved the status he was afforded as a surgeon in this institution. He had gotten here without anyone's help but his own; his no account father definitely hadn't had anything to do with it. Derek wasn't about to let the man's memory tarnish any part of his career now. With that thought in mind, Derek entered his patient's room with a slight knock on the door.

"Good Morning, Mrs. DiMera. How are you this morning?" he asked without a touch of real concern or caring in his voice.

She glared at him. "It's about time you got here and just peachy," she finished sarcastically. "How do think I am?"

Was she kidding? Anger quickly leapt into Derek's throat, and he bit back the angry retort that was fighting to get out. It hadn't occurred to him that this woman might not have warmed up to him in a couple of days or that she would be as hostile as she had been at her appointment-or even that his approach had anything to do with it. As far as he was concerned, she was the problem, definitely in need of…something. He didn't know what.

In his current mood, he'd be in a lot of trouble if he wasn't careful, though. Especially given the fact that it was obvious she could make him mad and make him feel like a stupid child in less than five seconds. Either feeling alone would be enough to make him lose it, never mind both at the same time. It took him back to a person and time in his life he had worked veryhard to overcome. Back to the vow he had made while he was doing everything in his power to wipe the filth of the past from his feet.

Nobody-_nobody_-was going to push him around ever again. Not even this woman.

But, no matter where he wanted to tell her to go, he couldn't do that. He remembered well the admonitions of his colleagues; he remembered exactly whom he was dealing with and the consequences that could follow from ticking them off. With the greatest of efforts, he tempered his tone and tried again.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. DiMera. I spoke without thought. Of course this is a difficult time for you."

"It most definitely is. And it would help if my doctor didn't patronize me." she answered snappishly.

"Patron-?!" Derek counted to ten before he finished that thought. Patronizing? What did this woman want from him? And why were her family members just sitting there watching? Did they agree with her? What was wrong with them? Didn't they know how much he was going to try to save their wife and mother's life? Shouldn't they be more thankful?

If he hadn't been so caught up in his own emotions, he might have noticed that the DiMera family wasn't so much silently standing by in agreement as they were trying to keep from laughing out loud. Maybe it was the anxiety of the situation finally getting to them—making them laugh instead of crying hysterically. Or maybe it was just what they needed to lend a sense of normality to the situation: seeing their mother give this man a piece of her mind meant that she had the same fighting spirit she had always had.

"I'm sorry. I don't meant to be patronizing; not at all. I guess it is hard to know what to say; even as a doctor. " Derek almost choked on the words,but they seemed to pacify her as she nodded in agreement. It was actually ironic as he really was being patronizing at this point. However, she still found a way to make him feel small and incompetent with her next statement. "Then don't say anything at all." She sighed. "I guess you're ready for me?" she asked quietly.

This lady was bi-polar. That had to be her problem. How could she go from biting his head off in one breath to being so quiet and vulnerable in the next? It just wasn't possible. Any more than it was possible that for the second time, she was making him feel things he didn't like feeling, making him notice things that he didn't like to notice.

He noticed that the room was suddenly infused with fear as the family instinctively reached for each other for support. Her children gathered around her bed, completing a circle around their parents. Other people in the room formed a circle around them, so that Derek himself was standing outside of both rings.

He noticed that all the women wore something pink—the official color for breast cancer—showing more than their support as family. It was a show of their support as women, too. Derek noticed that three of the ladies—all daughters, he surmised—even sported a pink streak somewhere in their hair. This was a family that clearly loved one another, a family that fought for and with each other.

As he looked on, something inside of Derek began to hurt, but he fiercely stamped it out before it could take hold of him. He was strong, so strong that a scene like this didn't have any hold on him. No hold at all. To prove it to himself, he got right back down to business, and his tone was gruffer than it needed to be.

"Yes. The nurses will be in any minute. Then we'll get this over with."

He heard a quick intake of breath as someone started to cry and a soothing, maternal voice trying to comfort whomever it had come from. One of the ladies in the outer ring of people around the bed shot him a glare as he left the room, but Derek didn't really take notice of any of that. Neither did he notice the staff discretely stepping out of his way as he stormed down the hall toward the operating room. He wouldn't have cared even if he had.

All he cared about was getting into the zone. That place he went to everyday that allowed him to be the best surgeon—not just in Castle Rock, but anywhere. The place where his emotions did not belong if he was going to save lives.

The only place where his past didn't rule him.


End file.
